Opposites Attract
by FairCritic
Summary: EdgertonCharlie slash. Sometimes those who seem the most different come to have the strongest bonds. T. May go up.
1. Pilot

AN: The time frame for this fic is uncertian, as my knowledge of the first, second, and first half of the third seasons is severely limited. Anyone who knows of any episodes with Edgerton in them, please review or PM and tell me!

Ian Edgerton sprawled in nothing but boxers on the sofa, thinking. He rarely spent any great amount of time in his residence these days. He always needed to be doing something, chasing someone, using his skills to take down a criminal.

He truly loved sniping, loved looking down the barrel, through the sight, watching the target, and knowing that he would hit his target, and hit it exactly where he wanted to hit. Loved knowing that if he chose to, he could spread the target's brain across the ground, and no one would question his decision. It was power, and it was wonderful, but it wasn't the reason he worked so hard these days.

The reason was the feeling he started getting when he came home to a cold, empty home, wherever he was currently making it. It was the feeling he got whenever he saw two lovers kissing, or holding hands, or laughing together. It was the feeling he got when his colleagues looked forward to going home, to spending time with loved ones. He avoided acknowledging it at first. He pretended he was just tired, or bored. But eventually, he just couldn't ignore it any more.

He was lonely.

Not just lonely for a love interest, someone to invest his heart in. Lonely for any interest at all, from anyone. Sad truth was, everyone, including his work companions, viewed him as a killer. He was a tool. A breathing, thinking, occasionally annoying tool, but a tool nonetheless. He couldn't remember the last time someone had asked him about his feelings.

That was depressing.

He rolled onto his side and drew his legs up to his chest. There had actually been one time….

_Ian padded quietly through the Bullpen, taking a last look around before he left. He turned a corner and found himself by the room Charlie occupied when he was consulting. Oddly enough, though the mathematician's things had been removed or set neatly aside, the man remained, head on arms, sound asleep. _

_Ian smiled. Oddly, despite their differences, he found himself liking clever, headstrong Professor Eppes. That he'd gone out and learned to shoot a gun, even though he hated them, so he would understand the sniper's perspective, impressed Ian. Most people wouldn't have bothered. The kid was wise as well as clever. He was also amusingly naïve in some aspects. He fell over his words adorably when dealing with human issues, and he respected Ian's input, even when it proved his own assumptions wrong._

_Silently, Ian padded over. Charlie stirred, tensing in response to whatever dream he was having. Or maybe a nightmare. It wouldn't surprise Ian, after the day he'd had. Though, another impressive quality of the professor, he seemed truly alright. Ian had expected a lot more freaking out, perhaps even panic. The guy was truly stronger than he looked._

_Ian sighed. Charlie couldn't stay here all night. Gently, he shook Charlie's shoulder. "Wake up, Mathman" he murmured. Charlie's eyes flickered open and searched for his face. Ian waited for the fear or awkwardness to flicker into life. To his surprise, instead of a myriad of negative emotions, trust followed recognition into his eyes. _

_Most people feared, distrusted, or feared _and_ distrusted him. Even Don was wary of him. But this genius, this brilliant young mathematician, trusted him. It was odd, to have someone trust him so completely._

"_Can't sleep here, Mathman" he said, "You still here for a reason?" Charlie smiled shyly. "Um, yeah, actually. I hung around because I wanted to thank you. If it weren't for your shot, I could have been dead; and so could a lot of the others. So, um… thanks."_

"_Welcome." Edgerton paused in his turning away when Charlie spoke again._

"_I, uh, also wanted to make sure you're alright. I mean, Don and the others, they always feel guilty when they shoot someone, and I thought it might be the same for you, so I was thinking maybe you wanted to come over and hang out with me and Don and Dad?"_

_Ian was really surprised now. The mathematician who'd been so disgusted at his mindset in the abandoned building across from the movie theater was inviting him to his home to drink with his family. He was also surprised at how much the idea appealed to him. Someone actually cared_ _about the _feelings_ of Agent Ian Edgerton, cold-blooded sniper extraordinaire. It was a novel feeling._

"_I'll come geek, but you should know one thing; I don't feel guilty. It was a damn good shot."_

He was cold; he was deliberately testing the man with that statement. And it was true, but yet Charlie still didn't seem the slightest bit afraid or distrusting. He'd insisted on Ian coming to drink, and Ian had ended up staying the night, thanks to an excellent nine-year-old whiskey that Ian consumed entirely by himself. The whiskey was good; the company was better. And he still remembered the way Charlie had seemed so uncertain as he expressed his concern for Ian.

It was Charlie he thought about when he thought of real friends. It was Charlie whose influence caused him to look deeper into math, if only so the next time he worked with the genius, he'd understand his voodoo a little better. He'd even come to want and strive for the mathmetician's good opinion, heaven forbid.

He still needed an excuse to drop in and see the kid though.

Not that he couldn't always invite himself onto one of Don's cases, or even just join the team for a couple of weeks. Ian had a high enough rank to pretty much do what he wanted, where he wanted. However, if he started hopping on cases just because he wanted to, he'd be buying an apartment in LA. before he knew what hit him. The Eppes kids were like a drug; once started, it was near impossible to stop. And Ian hated being stuck in one place for too long. It made him restless, foul-tempered, and frustrated. It made him feel trapped.

But damned if the trap wasn't the most tempting one he'd ever faced. And it had the best-looking bait he'd ever seen: one Professor Charlie Eppes.

_"I'LL KEEP YOU MY DIRTY LITTLE SECRET..."_

Ian toppled off the sofa with a squawk as his cell phone erupted in song right next to his ear. Rubbing his ear, he grabbed it and flipped it open. 'Note to self: turn down ringer volume'. he thought as he answered, "Ian Edgerton."

"Ian, hey, it's Morris. I heard random wildlife is starting to turn up dead in the woods around your house, so I found you a case to work on."

Ian laughed. Dan Morris was his main contact in the L.A. branch of the FBI and consequently the second real friend he had. Due to the fact that Dan kept tabs on Don Eppes and his team for him, he'd come to know Ian quite well, and they'd shared many jokes.

"They weren't my fault this time!" he protested, amused, "You have no case!"

"You bet I do" Dan chuckled, "And it involves the Eppes brothers."

Ian tilted his head, interested. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Some psychopath serial killer. No _specific_ need for a sniper, but I heard through the grapevine that Don could use an old hand to help out. You're an old hand. Thought you'd be interested."

"I might drop in. Depends. His little brother helping him?"

"You still interested in the wierd little geek?"

"Watch your tongue. Answer the question."

"No need to be nasty. I'm not going to tell anyone."

Ian sighed exaggeratedly. "Of course you won't. If you did, I'd have to give you a personal demonstration of my skill, and neither of us wants that."

"Your distrust is breaking my heart."

"The chunk of ice that passes for it. Answer the question, Morris."

"Ouch. Yeah, the geek is helping out. Should I tell Eppes you're dropping in?"

Ian smiled."No need, I'll call and tell him myself. You're a pal, Dan. Thanks."

"Nice to hear it. Keep that sight fixed on criminals."

"Will do, Dan."

"Take care of yourself, Ian. You're worth it, even if you don't think you are."

"Hmmm. Bye."

Morris hung up. Ian closed his cell and stared at it, thinking.Into his mind rose an image of the look on Charlie's face as he considered for the first time all the physical effects on the aim of a sniper. The stunned realization had amused Ian immensely, but he had restrained his amusement out of respect for the genius professor's pride. The memory still brightened his day. Smiling, he turned and eyed the three-quarters empty carton of Ben & Jerry's Chubby Hubby sitting on the coffee table. He could finish it while he packed. Another thought entered his head and his smile turned into an ouright grin.

'What would the team think if they could have seen me just a couple of minutes ago?' he mused. 'Curled up on the sofa with a thick, warm, fuzzy blanket, a stuffed pink rabbit with only half it's hair, and the largest carton of Chubby Hubby I could find?' Shaking his head, the sniper declared aloud, "They would never let me live it down."

Stretching, he picked up the carton of Chubby Hubby and headed for the bedroom. If he hurried, he could leave and make LA by tomorrow evening.

'Watch out, Charlie, here I come...'

AN: I like the silly human side of people. Again, if you know of any Numb3rs episodes with Edgerton in them please tell me!


	2. Ian Steals A Kiss

AN: The time frame for this fic is uncertain, as my knowledge of the first, second, and first half of the third seasons is still pretty limited.

Special thanks to Dannys Girrrl and ALEO for your tips on the episodes!

"There has to be some angle we haven't covered." Professor Charlie Eppes slumped against the side of the cubicle, rubbing bloodshot eyes with his fist. The rest of the FBI team sat or stood around him, all equally exhausted. Don had collapsed into the only chair and sat with his head tilted back and an arm over his eyes. Colby and David both stood, Colby with his arms crossed, David with his hands in his pockets. Megan sat on the desk, staring at her hands.

"We've tried everything, interrogated everyone that we could" she said. "There just isn't anything else we can do right now." Lifting her head, she gazed at each of them in turn, settling on Don. "You need sleep" she told him gently, "We all do."

"I can't" Don replied, "We've got to keep working..."

"Working on what?" Colby shook his head. "I agree with Megan, Don. We're all wasted."

"We can't just give up!" Charlie protested, "We have to have missed something. If we just look over the case again..."

"I doubt you could find the end of your nose right now, Professor, much less any new leads in the case."

The agents turned to the source of the new voice. Ian Edgerton stood behind them in the hallway, smiling.

"Ian, are you early?" Don inquired, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I mean, I could have sworn you said you wouldn't be here until tomorrow."

"This _is_ tomorrow, Eppes. When was the last time you set foot outside this office?"

Don blinked and scrunched his face. "Ummm, about five pm yesterday. We ran out of coffee."

"Five _yesterday_? Do you realize it's past eight pm? No wonder you all look like shit. When was the last time you had more than a couple hours sleep?"

"'Bout five days" Colby answered after a moments silence.

Edgerton sighed. "Do any of you realize you're wasting time? Right, as the superior agent, I order all of you to go home, eat a solid meal, and sleep for ten hours. Granger, step over here for a second." He quickly strode a little ways down the hall and turned to address Colby. "How likely are they to actually do as I say?"

Colby grinned tiredly. "They're not" he replied, "And since when are you the superior agent?"

"Since I've had about thirty hours sleep on all of you. How should we muscle them?"

"You're assuming we can."

"I never take no for an answer, Granger. I can handle the Eppes brothers if you can get Reeves and Sinclair."

Colby rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I can take Megan and David, but I don't know if you can handle Don and Charlie alone. One of them alone is difficult. The two together is nearly impossible."

Edgerton smirked confidently. "Believe me, I can take 'em. The only issue would be getting them to their house, as I have no idea where it is."

"They know" Colby pointed out.

Edgerton snorted. "I wouldn't trust them to operate the elevator, let alone drive. Although I suppose Don could direct me. Does he live with Charlie?"

"No, he has an apartment. Although I know he sleeps there a lot during cases, supposedly because it's closer." Colby frowned, then shrugged. "If you think you can take 'em, go right ahead."

Edgerton nodded. "I will." he said firmly.

Colby snorted quietly. "Good luck" he muttered "Don't shoot them."

Edgerton pretended not to hear him.

EDGIEOEDGIEOEDGIEOEDGIEOEDGIEOEDGIEOEDGIEOEDGIEOEDGIEOEDGIEOEDGIEOEDGIEOEDGIEOEDGIE

It took a lot of annoying persistence and derisive remarks before the Eppes brothers finally caved and agreed to go to Charlie's house for some sleep.

Colby, David, and Megan watched the entire argument with great interest. Ian noted that they seemed surprisingly focused for people who had had a total of three and a half hours of sleep in five days.

Ian took them in his truck, mainly because he needed his things, but also because he didn't want either of them driving. The brothers were asleep within two minutes after they climbed into his truck. Ian was never happier for a GPS. He could save Charlie's address in the GPS memory, and find him anytime.

What a wonderful concept.

Ian sighed wearily. His crush on the Professor was really getting out of hand. And it didn't help that Charlie was curled up on his backseat, sweet and vulnerable in sleep. Ian had only to glance in the review mirror to see him. He found himself studying the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips parted as he breathed, the shift of his eyes under their closed lids.

Curious, he turned his gaze to Don. The FBI agent was different from Charlie even in sleep. He slept the hard sleep of one who knew death too well, and he slept much lighter than Charlie, a side effect of risking your life each and every day. His breathing was deeper, and his body gave off a sense of wariness that Ian suspected never really went away. He was harder, edgier than Charlie, less sophisticated, more rough around the edges. He was also extremely attractive, but somehow, Ian's eyes just kept drifting back to Charlie. Don was attractive, yes. But Charlie was beautiful.

Charlie's tongue flitted over his lips, and his watcher was suddenly and desperately aroused. Ian gripped the wheel so hard the leather creaked and his knuckles were bone-white. He had suddenly acquired a new motto. _Abstinence is a virtue. He doesn't like you that way. Abstinence is a virtue. He doesn't like you that way._

It didn't help.

Don stirred in the passenger seat, reminding Ian of another reason not to touch Charlie. If he touched Charlie, he would undoubtedly have to fight Don, and he wasn't spectacular at any form of fighting that required his opponent within arms' reach. In short, Don could kick his ass. And that would really hurt his reputation.

Still...

Ian snuck another glance at Charlie and smiled as the oh-so-lovable genius found his folded leather jacket on the backseat and nuzzled his face into it. It might actually be worth the beating, to have the genius as his. If only Charlie felt that way! But as far as he knew, Charlie was strictly hetero, and besides, he was dating Amita anyway.

Damn. This was depressing. He needed ice cream. Lots of ice cream. A couple of pints of Chubby Hubby ought to be enough. And a Blue Moon. Or a scotch. No, wait, alcohol would just make him hornier, and weaken his resolve. Just ice cream then, with another pint added to substitute for the beer. Double damn. No grocery stores would be open this late, so no ice cream tonight. Unless the Eppes had some.

He _really_ needed ice cream. Badly.

The Eppes driveway appeared up ahead. Ian pulled into it and stopped, cutting the engine. Turning to look at Charlie, he wondered if maybe, just maybe...

He checked Don. Still asleep. Good.

He opened his door and moved silently around the truck to the door at Charlie's head. He opened it as quietly as possible and peered at Charlie's face in the darkness. Checked Don. Still asleep. Turning back to Charlie, he took a deep breath and let it out.

_You've come this far, Ian, you might as well do it._

Ian licked his lips, checked Don one last time, bent his head, and delicately fitted his mouth to Charlie's.

_Bliss._ He lingered, thrilling in the taste of Charlie's sweet lips. Even though it took all his self-control and then some to keep it light, it was still delightful. Ian couldn't help but imagine how amazing it would be if Charlie were participating, and if he could make it more passionate.

And then Charlie lifted a hand to his face.

AN: Dunn dunn dunnnnn! Cliffie! Is Charlie awake? Will Ian get his wish? Tune in to the next episode to find out!


	3. Charlie Sneaks A Peek

AN: The time frame for this fic is uncertain, as my knowledge of the first, second, and first half of the third seasons is still pretty limited.

Will not be exactly like the tv series.

Special thanks to

Ian froze. The hand caressed his cheek gently. Ian struggled to breathe, to think. Charlie was still asleep, Ian could tell that. This was probably just some kind of subconscious reaction. Carefully, he lifted his mouth from Charlie's and hovered just over the sleeping man, heart pounding. The hand that brushed his cheek lingered for a moment more, then fell gently back to Charlie's side. Ian heaved a silent sigh of relief and retreated, closing the truck door silently. He slipped around to the opposite side of the truck and sat against the rear tire, drawing up his legs and wrapping his arms around them. He pressed his face to his knees and took a few deep breaths, collecting himself.

"Ian, you are in way over your head" he told himself softly, "Why didn't you back out while you had the upper hand?" He didn't really need to ask; he already knew the answer. Had known for a while.

He was in love with Charlie Eppes.

Ian heaved another sigh, this one weary. Of all the guys to fall in love with, his heart chose the genius math geek. The _hetero_ genius math geek. The _hetero_ genius math geek who had a _girlfriend_. _And_ a big brother who would pound him into putty if he ever so much as looked cross-eyed at his precious baby brother.

Damn.

Ian sighed. Again.

He really did want to get the brothers into real beds, and he wanted to ask if there was any ice cream in the Eppes' freezer. Sitting here wasn't helping anyone, himself included. "Note to self: get a counselor" he muttered, and hauled himself up with a groan. "Uhhhhh. Make that a counselor and a spinal specialist."

Twisting his back to loosen up the stiff muscles, Ian walked back around the truck and opened Don's door. Gently, he shook the FBI agent awake.

"Hey, Don, wake up, we're here."

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

For the fifth time in as many minutes, Charlie asked himself if he were crazy. And for the fifth time in as many minutes, he told himself that yes, he was.

He was crazy.

Crazy for Ian Edgerton.

He was crazy for sexy, delicious, cool Ian Edgerton.

But the sexy sniper was hetero. Definitely hetero.

Damn.

Of course, that was why he was up at two in the morning spying on the agent, rather than attempting to romance him. He was desperate to see Ian in his most vulnerable state, to add to his imaginings of what the handsome sniper would look like sprawled sated beside him in bed.

Because he would never really get to experience that.

And he craved it. How he craved it.

Ian was, in Charlie's opinion, the single most craveable sleeper in existence. He certainly wasn't laid out like a god in a painting, but then, Ian redefined godhood. At least in Charlie's eyes. He was sprawled on the sofa, tangled in the comforter Charlie had given him, one arm shoved under the pillow, the other carelessly angled across his abdomen, fingers gripping the edge of the comforter. He slept shirtless, revealing a delicious, tanned, toned upper torso. Muscle rippled under his skin, not the bulky muscle aqcuired lifting weights, but the lean muscle of a man who lived a working life in the outdoors. Ian didn't have blatant muscle, like Colby or David. His muscle was more subtle, like Don's. His belly was flat instead of ridged and his arms were smooth instead of corded with pop-out veins.

And he had scars. More than Charlie would have expected on a man who did most of his fighting from a distance. A dull pink patch the size of Charlie's hand covered Ian's ribs on his left side, and an old bullet wound marked his right bicep. What looked like whip scars sliced across Ian's back. Numerous other scars marked his sides, chest, and back.

He didn't have quite as many scars as Don, but Charlie would bet that every one was just as cruelly earned as his brother's. Perhaps even more so. Don, thank god, had never known the horror of war. Ian had. Charlie smiled sadly.

"Poor Ian" he whispered, "So many coworkers, but no real friends. But I'm here, I'm always here. I wish you could see that. I wish I had the courage to show you."

Standing, Charlie tiptoed back to his room, heart aching. As he curled up under his covers, he had a longing thought.

_If only._

AN: Wow, that turned out much angstier than planned. Ian went along with my plan, but Charlie took off on a rather depressing tangent. I guess he's just more emotional. Weird. Well, review review review! Pleassse! And please check out my soon to come Don/Ian story!


End file.
